


Lipgloss

by neytah



Category: Only The Young (Band), X Factor (UK) RPF
Genre: F/F, kaylor au, petsy, vsfs au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytah/pseuds/neytah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Parisa's third year watching Betsy on the runway. But it's her first time being up there with her.</p><p>(Kaylor inspired AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lipgloss

**Author's Note:**

> (sorry this took so long to get out! hope you like it!)

So many sparkles. So many bright lights. It's familiar, but it never stops being at least a bit intimidating. However, the most exciting thing this year, as always, is the musical talent. Last year, there was Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande, mesmerizing onstage. It's Betsy's third year now, walking that famous runway, and it still seems so unreal, so many aspiring models can only dream of this. And here she is, again.

But this year is all too different. Unlike the past few years, Parisa isn't watching it on TV, or from the audience. Parisa's here. Parisa's performing on the runway with her.

She's getting ready in the back, wit her, testing microphones and getting tied into her dress. She grins as Betsy approaches.

"Hey cutie."

"You ready?" Betsy asks.

"Ready as you are," she responds lifting hr arms for yet another wardrobe adjustment. "You look hot, as always."

"Ditto."

An assistant stops by now, needing Betsy for the lineup. Parisa leans over for a goodbye kiss, but Betsy has to dodge.

"Lipgloss. Can't." She says, pointing at the makeup spent a ridiculously long time on. "Luv ya, good luck out there!" And Betsy is pulled away.

And soon enough, Betsy is loaded with her pair of oversized wings,, and is put in the line of stress ridden girls about to open the show. She's not as nervous as her first year, but that doesn't eliminate the fear of tripping, or falling, or something disastrous. All she can do is breathe. Breathe and walk.

Like always, she blacks out for most of it, doesn't remember a thing. Just snapshots of the bright lights, the neon runway, the sea of unrecognizable faces. And then she's back stage again, and she can finally exhale, the weight of the opening walk off her shoulders as well as those massive wings. And on to the next outfit.

Parisa's performing for this one. It makes it all the more nerve wracking, yet not, exciting, exhilarating. But it's easy enough to push the nerves away, exchange best wishes with the other models, squeezed into their next outfits.

And Parisa walks past the time of models, on towards the stage. She finds a second to take Betsy's hand, squeezing. "Good luck babe." She says. "You too."

Betsy hears Parisa's newest single from the foyer. She remembers first hearing it, brought into the studio to hear it. Now, Parisa's in her turf, her world. It's actually amazing to watch.

And then she's ready to walk.

It's once again, just snapshots of memory. Bright lights approaching her. Fingers interlocking as she first passes Parisa, smiling. The end of the runway, wink, pose. On her way back Parisa takes her hand again, kissing it midst an instrumental break. And, as always, she exits the stage with a sigh of relief. Now she's about to watch toe rest of her girlfriend's performance, stress free.

 ***

It's Parisa's second time at a VSFS afterparty. Last year, she came here as Betsy's girlfriend, but this year, she's there as talent. She has an entirely different presence, which Betsy doesn't mind at all, that everyone stops to talk to her, to congratulate her on the performance. Because she deserves it, she did great.

But once some time has passed, and everyone in the room has had a chance to exchange words with Parisa, and Betsy can finally spend some actual time with her. Parisa's been out touring, and Betsy's been getting ready for this show, so it's been far too long since they've been able to cuddle up together on a couch.

Music plays, people dance. But Betsy and Parisa just sit, sipping their drinks.

"Can I kiss you?" Parisa asks.

"What?" She scrunches her face, perplexed.

"Lip gloss. Can't mess it up, yeah?" Parisa's grinning as she leans against Betsy's shoulder, amused by her own joke. She's already tipsy, Betsy can smell it on her breath. And she meets Parisa's lips with her own, contrasting alcohol flavors mixing between their tongues.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too."


End file.
